


home

by aceofsparrows



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, just a bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26141989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofsparrows/pseuds/aceofsparrows
Summary: Almost the entire time that Callum’s known her they’ve been in danger. Rayla, trained to be alert and ready at all times (and as the only real fighter in their little trio), is always the first watch, always awake before both him and Ezran. But as they trudge back to Katolis, battle weary and heady from their victory, suddenly Rayla’s not the only one keeping them safe. Soren or Corvus takes the first watch, and Gren’s just about the most morning person there is.Suddenly, Rayla’s just, well, Rayla. Not an assassin, not a protector, not an enemy. Just Rayla.ORRayla adjusts to life in the castle and Callum discovers an interesting fact about Moonshadow elves.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 122





	home

**Author's Note:**

> Hey look! I'm back with another Dragon Prince fic!   
> This one started out as a little idea ("Oh yeah, let's write a cute little oneshot about Rayla napping the funny places like a house cat, it'll be fun!") and grew into something much bigger and deeper, but I'm definitely glad it did! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Rayla naps... a _lot_. 

It’s not immediately noticeable; after all, almost the entire time that Callum’s known her they’ve been in danger. Rayla, trained to be alert and ready at all times (and as the only real fighter in their little trio), is always the first watch, always awake before both him and Ezran. But as they trudge back to Katolis, battle weary and heady from their victory, suddenly Rayla’s not the only one keeping them safe. Soren or Corvus takes the first watch, and Gren’s just about the most morning person there is. Suddenly, Rayla’s just, well, Rayla. Not an assassin, not a protector, not an enemy. Just Rayla. 

But even then, things aren’t really _normal_. After all, “normal” hasn’t been a thing since that night of the full moon almost a month and a half ago, and Callum doubts “normal” is going to be a thing again for a long while, maybe not ever. When they finally do reach Katolis, the kingdom and its capital are in shambles. Ezran is king again, and even though he’s just a kid and has Opeli and Corvus and Soren to help out, there are still large parts of the day when he’s stuck in a meeting, Bait asleep at his elbow. Rayla and Callum are both a little unmoored, and after several unsuccessful afternoons of sparring in the courtyard (Rayla always wins, since magic is against the rules and Callum’s still mostly hopeless with a sword) and wandering around the castle (Callum’s spent almost ten years in the castle, and Rayla could care less about history of the architecture or who the stuffy dead people are in the paintings) they begin to drift apart. Not in a friendship (or even romantic) sense, but physically. 

Callum spends his days in the library, mostly. Despite the lack of readily available texts on primal magic, there are sections deep within the vast royal collection that yield fascinating revelations. Accounts of human and half-elf mages commanding powers far more advanced than his, folksongs about those who possessed fire or water primal stones diverting rivers or sustaining mountain villages through the harshest of winters. Soon his sketchbook is filled with pages and pages of runes (even though he’s not likely to forget them) and their descriptions; he pours over the books for hours, absorbing as much as he can. 

And Rayla? Rayla wanders. She keeps to herself, treading the deep red carpets of the halls, exploring the nooks and crannies out of the way of the watching eyes of the royal guards. Even out of her elf clothing, she sees how they tense when she nears them. With her stark white hair and startling eyes and pointed ears, she’s very obviously _not human_ , even when she keeps her head down and her four-fingered hands in her pockets. She’s not a threat, they know that, (in fact, they’d probably be reprimanded pretty harshly for attacking her, seeing as she’s practically a member of the royal family already) but she can still see the fear in their eyes. 

She remembers that same fear in Callum’s eyes that first night, even if he quickly got over it. These people were taught to hate anything from Xadia, to mistrust her and her people from childhood. Even if she did originally come to the castle with bad intentions, even if her pseudo father _did_ kill their king (which she’s still very sorry about, as Harrow sounded like a lovely man), she finds their wary stares and hovering protection impossibly tiring. 

So she wanders, always in motion. She takes in the sprawling views from the ramparts and towers, squinting into the distance for some glimpse of home even though she knows it’s too far away to see with the naked eye. She keeps her skills sharp, walking the thin stone walls and climbing along the slanted roofs, hands aching in the evenings. 

Evenings are the best parts of the day. Just her and Callum and Ezran, sometimes with the addition of Soren, goofing around in their rooms after dinner. It’s those moments, warm and close and _together_ , that make the hours of solitude and disquiet worth it. With little chance of her being welcomed back at the Silvergrove anytime soon, the brothers are only family she has. 

But the longer she spends at the castle, no matter how good the good moments are, she can’t shake that restless feeling. For one thing, Moonshadow elves are not naturally diurnal. With their primary source of power and energy being the moon, they’re more alert and comfortable at night, making most of them somewhere between crepuscular and fully nocturnal. The diurnal workings of the castle begin to grate on her, and with the nightmares that seep into her dreams when she _does_ sleep, she gets less and less rest.

So she starts to nap. At first it's just twenty minutes in the afternoon in her room, sprawled on her bed in the late-day sunlight. Then, when that's not enough, it's another nap after breakfast in addition the one in the afternoon.

But twenty minutes at a time isn't really _rest_. And her bed, though very comfortable, is also tied to sleeping at night and nightmares, and the more time she spends in her small room the more claustrophobic she feels.

So with no one caring what she does all day, she takes to napping in other places. Inside a wardrobe she finds exploring an empty corridor, in the dark, warm space amongst a pile of forgotten furs. On a windowsill in the West-facing hall, cheek pressed against the cool stone, curled in the afternoon sunlight. Under a desk in an abandoned study. High up on a turret no longer used for patrols. She will sleep anywhere and everywhere. Her body falls back into its natural rhythm and soon her nights become restless, as she's filled with more energy from the day.

At night, she slips into her old clothing and sneaks down to the forest, jumping through the trees and breathing in as much of cool, crisp air she can. At night, she feels so much lighter and freer than she ever could in the daylight.

But still the loneliness creeps in. Even though things are still good when she's with everyone else, even though the banter and affection come easily, there's a doubt that creeps in. Should she really be here? Will things ever change? She doesn’t _really_ care about what anyone thinks about her besides Callum and Ezran, but somehow she’s still bothered. And she misses Runaan and Ethari, and her parents, and all she can think about is Viren and the coins and that day at the Storm Spire _and and and_

It’s been three weeks. Three of the longest weeks in her life, arguably. Callum finds her napping in a sunbeam like a cat, curled up on a stone windowsill. 

“Rayla?” 

She blinks awake, turning over to find him looking at her with those soft green eyes. “Hmm? Oh, hey Callum.” 

He’s frowning. “Are you okay? I was looking for you, and Soren said he saw you go this way a couple of hours ago, and you’re sleeping here on this windowsill and it can’t be very comfortable and I--” 

“ _Callum_.” She stops his rambling with a soft hand on his shoulder and a firm look, and he meets her eyes, eyebrows still knitted together with worry. “I’m fine, really.” 

Callum studies her for a moment before his brow and eyes soften, and he takes her hand. “I believe you. I just-- I realised the other day that we hardly ever see each other and I’m always in the library and...” He shakes his head slightly, realising he’s rambling again. “I miss you, Rayla,” he says softly, leaning his head on their hands that are intertwined on his shoulder. 

“I miss you too, sad prince,” Rayla replies, sitting up and sliding off the windowsill to give Callum a teasing _boop!_ on the nose with a free finger. "Really, though, I'm fine."

"I know," Callum sighs, squeezing her hand as they meander down the hallway. "Why were you sleeping in the middle of the day though?"

He looks genuinely confused, and Rayla laughs. "Unlike you day-loving humans, we Moonshadow elves are much more active at night. Since I've got nothin' to do all day here anyway, I decided to let m'self go back to my normal sleep schedule. Hence, day-napping."

"I can't believe I didn't think of that before." He tips his head, and Rayla can practically see the pieces being put together in his mind. "I think I saw you sleep maybe three times that whole month we were traveling? You must've been exhausted!"

"Oh, definitely. You're exhausting."

"Hey!"

They slip into their usual banter easily, and Rayla feels that familiar loosening in her chest. Callum always makes her feel a sort of safe she’s never felt around anyone else, and for a moment she considers telling him all the things she’s been feeling in the last few weeks. But no, Callum’s got too much to think about already. Why would she add to that? 

They stop at the end of the hallway, and Callum turns to face her, their hands dangling between them. 

“I’m serious, though, Rayla. I miss you, and I’m sorry I’ve gotten tunnel vision about this whole mage thing, and I want us to spend more time together.” He sees her gaze shift, and hastily amends. “I-- I mean, if that’s also what you want. I don’t want to force anything, because I care about you, and I want you to be happy, so if you _don’t_ want to spend more time together or--”

“ _Callum_ ,” she chuckles, and he closes his eyes, huffing in defeat as he realises he’s done it again. 

“I just don’t know when to stop talking, do I?” He asks, and though it’s more rhetoric, Rayla answers anyway. 

“No. But I love it when you ramble, even if it is kind of annoying.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Aww, thanks.” 

“But yes, Callum, I want to spend more time with you too,” she says, sobering. “And...” she sighs, remembering what she told Lujanne all those weeks ago at the Moon Nexus. _Strong relationships need honesty, the full truth_. “I have something to tell you.” 

Callum frowns, but says nothing. Rayla swallows. _This shouldn’t be hard!_

“I feel like I don’t belong here, Callum. I mean, when I’m with you and Ez and Soren I do-- because I know you, and you know me-- but everyone else looks at me like I’m-- like I’m still a threat. And yeah, I _could_ be a threat if I wanted to be, but I’m not. This is the only home I have right now and I don’t even know if I can call it a home because it doesn’t feel like home, it just feels empty.” 

Her gaze has been flitting around, looking at everything _but_ Callum, and when she finally does look at him his lips are a thin line, storm clouds gathering in his eyes. She knows that look; it’s the look he gave Nyx when she threatened Rayla, and the one he gives Rayla herself when she says something self-deprecating. How, she wonders, in such a sort time can a boy go from hating her to wanting to fight anyone else who hates her? She supposes that’s love at its very core: being willing to defend someone when there’s injustice being done to them.

“I can’t tell you where your home is, Rayla,” Callum says, and it’s not what she was expecting. “I don’t want to keep you here if you don’t want to be here; I’m not that kind of person. But _I_ want you here, because I love you and I kinda don’t want to live without you anymore, and this is _my_ home and I’m hoping it can be your home too, maybe.” His eyes soften, and he’s just an almost-fifteen-year-old again, gaze full of hurt and love and acceptance and respect for this beautiful, capable, fierce girl in front of him. “And don’t think for a second that I won’t zap anyone who makes you feel like you aren’t wanted, because you _are_ wanted.” 

He puts a hand under her jaw, smiling that sincere smile. “You. Are. _Wanted,_ Rayla. You are so, _so_ wanted.” And he kisses her, short and sweet, and she smiles. 

"Thank you, Callum," she says, words sticking in her throat and her eyes watering against her will. "Thank you."

She pulls him into a tight, desperate hug, and is hit once more with that sensation of never want to let go. Letting go these days feels like that fall from the Storm Spire, terrifying and endless.

Callum hugs her back just as fiercely, and he's crying a little too.

"I love you, Rayla," he says into her shoulder, and she smiles.

"I love you too, Callum."

The next time Callum finds Rayla napping, he merely smiles fondly. He hasn't been getting much sleep either; apparently nightmares take on a whole new level of terrifying when you have a perfect memory. With nothing pressing to do, he simply curls up beside her, their back to each other, and lets himself drift off, enjoying the company and the warm sunlight.

It's the best sleep he's had in weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like more Dragon Prince nonsense from me, go check out my tumblr @mediocre-mage :)   
> And as always, thank you for your kudos and comments! They are everything ❤️


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